Breaking The Law and a leg
by JeanClaudeTheCat
Summary: Sam & Dean do some investigating after receiving a phone call from a friend of Sarah Blake. Dean gets injured and Sam has to do some hunting on his own. Lighthearted, not really angsty or romantic. Post 2x08. [Final Chapter up : Excitement!] COMPLETE
1. Man Coffee

Disclaimer: I do not own any Supernatural characters. Nothing was gained from this story (except the satisfaction of writing).

Set: post "In My Time Of Dying" (any time after that episode)

"Double strength espresso and a hazelnut - no, vanilla - latte?" The Starbucks girl called, surveying the room for a customer that did not come forward. Frustrated, she took on a much louder tone: "Order's Up! Double strength espresso and a vanilla la-"

"Shhh! Keep it down! Someone might hear!" Dean barked, stomping up and snatching the coffee from the girl. She was not offended by his gruff behaviour, mostly because it suited him so well. She noticed the smallest hint of a wink in his tired eyes as he took extra sugar packets from the container and she smiled. After paying, Dean donned his dark sunglasses and walked out to the Impala, muttering under his breath about having to order a "chick drink". He winced at the sunlight reflecting off the hood before sliding into the driver's seat. Sam was curled up in the passenger seat, asleep. Dean smacked him in the back of the head.

"Sammy, wakeup, I got your coffee. Smell that? _Caffeine…_" said Dean as he let the characteristic coffee scent waft through the air. Sam mumbled something incoherent in response and shifted his position. Dean shook his head and took a sip of his exceptionally strong coffee – which was, in his opinion, _man_ coffee. Dean supposed nothing but "man coffee" would do after the night he and Sam had had. They'd gone to a local bar to celebrate their recent defeat of a Wendigo where Sam had drank himself under the table (though not really a difficult task, in Dean's opinion) and Dean had met a very nice college senior named Melissa – no, Melanie.

Dean pushed a cassette into the Impala's tape player. He looked over at Sam as Blue Oyster Cult began to play from the speakers. Sam's sleep remained largely undisturbed, despite the fact that Eric Bloom's voice was resonating _'Take me awaaaaaay…'_ through the car. So it did not surprise Dean when Sam's cell phone rang, and Sam did not stir.

Dean was in the middle of a spirited rendition of _Godzilla _(complete with the occasional air guitar riff) and so was quite annoyed when he had to pull over, stop the cassette and reach into Sam's jacket pocket for his phone.

"Sammy, the things I do for you…" Dean said to his brother's sleeping form. He answered the phone with a grunt.

"Hello, is that Sam Winchester?" said a hesitant female voice.

"No, it's his brother Dean. Sam's asleep coz he's such a lightweight."

"Oh, okay… uh, I'm Jennifer Caruso. I went to college with Sarah Blake. She told me that you – you and your brother – could help with a, uh, problem."

"Well, sweetheart, that all depends on what kind of problem you're talking about."


	2. Dale Woods

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Supernatural. This was not written for any sort of gain (as the satisfaction of writing is beginning to wear off).

This chapter is longer than the last. The chapters from now on will probably all be closer to this length.

* * *

"It's kind of a… paranormal… problem," Jennifer said softly.

"So what are we after? Murderous ghost? Shapeshifter? Blood-sucking vampire? Demon hell-bent on gore?"

"I'm not really sure. I thought you'd be able to figure that out." There was a pause and Dean heard Jennifer sigh heavily. "There's been some… disappearances. In our town, Dale Woods, two people have gone missing in a week. First my friend Tom and then Annie, who I work with. The last disappearance in Dale Woods was more than a year ago. The weird thing is I was with Annie two nights ago and she was… taken."

"Taken?"

"This _thing _took her. It was really dark and I couldn't see and someone grabbed Annie. And I picked up a branch and started swinging. And I'm pretty strong but thi-" Jennifer stopped and took a breath. "…this thing didn't seem to feel it… I just know it wasn't a regular person."

Dean paused, considering the information. "And Sarah gave you Sam's number? What did she tell you?"

"Nothing, really. Just that he was a guy she met once who knows about this… stuff. She said you two could help. I thought I'd give it a shot."

Dean looked over at Sam who was beginning to stir.

"We'll be there," Dean said. He gave Sam his cell phone back after getting an address. Sam held his head in his hands and squinted at Dean.

"Dude I feel so - is that my coffee?" Sam seized the latte and added a sugar packet. "So who were you speaking to on my phone?"

"A lovely girl by the name of Jennifer Caruso. Wants us to check out some disappearances in her town. People being taken by some super-human being. But Sam you'll never _guess _who she's friends with," Dean said, smiling.

"I suppose I wont, will I?"

"Sarah. That sweet art girl you almost hooked up with in New Paltz. And kudos, man: she was hot."

"We dated once! I didn't _almost hook up with her_."

"Yeah but you _could _have," Dean said with a meaningful look. "Why don't you call her? Take a break from hunting for bit – she was good for you."

"Because _she's _probably moved on with her life. I can't just show up and expect a relationship," Sam said between mouthfuls of lukewarm vanilla latte.

"Who said anything about a relationship? Come on, call her." Sam looked blankly at Dean. "Fine, Sam _I'll _call her." Dean snatched at Sam's cell phone. "Tell her how you've been pining for her ever since-"

"I have _not _been pining!" Sam protected his phone in his jacket pocket, spilling coffee on himself.

"She's obviously thinking about you if she gave your number to her friend. I'll just call her and ask if-"

"You do, Dean, and I will punch you so hard-"

Dean laughed. "Am I supposed to be afraid of that? Sammy you punch like a girl."

"A girl that can kick your ass."

"No girl can kick my ass," Dean said matter-of-factly. "Fine, I won't call her. But _you _should."

"So where are we going now?"

"Dale Woods, Nebraska." Dean smiled at Sam and switched on the cassette player.

* * *

"Here it is!" said Dean, rejoicing. "Thirty-five Blake Road. Hey Sam – it's an omen."

"Ha-ha." Dean and Sam got out of the Impala. They had been driving for several days and Sam was glad to have some sort of distraction from Dean's "humour". It was early in the evening and the sky was just beginning to turn dark. Dean tapped on the front door of number Thirty-Five. A thin blonde-haired woman who looked to be mid-20's answered. She narrowed her eyes at the visitors and then smiled.

"You must be Sam and Dean Winchester. I'm Jennifer," she said. There was an awkward moment before Jennifer shook Dean's hand. "You must be… Dean?"

"Yeah, Dean Winchester. It's _really_ nice to see you," Dean said, smiling flawlessly and winking. "Sorry we're later than we thought. We had a bit of trouble finding the place. Sam's sense of direction is terrible." Jennifer laughed and motioned them inside. The house was well furnished with homey timber furniture and dried flower arrangements on the tables. Family photos and pictures showing Jennifer's various stages of development hung on the walls. A large photo of Jennifer as a blonde-haired wide-eyed toddler hung in the centre, surrounded by glamorous pictures from high-school dances and family shots at exotic locations. Jennifer noticed Dean's interest in the photos.

"This is my parent's house," she said by way of explanation.

"Living here until you find a place on your own?" Dean enquired.

"Living here until I move in with my boyfriend." Jennifer smiled at Dean's expression.

"Well that's… great," Dean said to the floor.

"So Dean said something about kidnappings?" Sam said as he awkwardly sat down on a puffy maroon sofa.

"A girl I work with, Annie, and my boyfriend's friend Tom are both missing. Annie was taken and I think Tom was too."

"And you think something supernatural did it?"

"Yeah. The police think Annie and Tom are just missing. I told them what happened to Annie and they seem to think I was just confused or something," Jennifer said, shaking her head as if to sort out he thoughts. "But I tried to fight it off, so did Annie. Annie sprayed this thing with pepper spray and it did nothing. This thing didn't even feel it. It pushed me down and I was knocked out. When I woke up they were gone."

"Where did this happen?" Dean asked

"It was out in the woodlands. Annie and I were walking home from work. We usually walk because it's only twenty minutes if you take the shortcut through the woods. We always walk home that way. We… we thought it was safe…" Jennifer looked down at her feet.

"We'll have to take a look."

"The cops have already looked at it. They didn't find anything."

"But we'll be looking for different things," Sam said. "Traces of sulphur, EMF, interesting tracks…"

"I've got time. I'll walk you there now."

* * *

"Over here!" Sam and Dean heard Jennifer call. They strayed off the path through the woods to find Jennifer pointing down at the base of a tree. It was almost dark and the brothers were straining to see anything properly, even with their flashlights.

"I chased it to here and that's where I got knocked out," Jennifer said, indicating a flattened bush. "There's blood here. Annie got cut when she tried to fight it off. The police identified it as hers."

"That's an awful lot of blood. Where was she cut?" Sam looked down at the stained leaves.

"Mainly her hands, but it did get her in the face. She might have broken her nose. It was so dark I… I couldn't see." Jennifer looked upset that she wasn't being more helpful.

"Sam! There's more blood here!" Dean's voice called from the elevated path. Sam and Jennifer followed the blood spots to the path. Dean peered down at a blood spot where the trail seemed to end. "That's weird. It looks like she just stopped bleeding." Dean followed the path, looking around for more blood spots. He inadvertently stepped on a large stone which rolled under his foot. "Shit!" Dean slipped off the path and rolled down into the forest. Sam and Jennifer heard him stop with a sickening crunch. Sam ran, following him through the trees.

"Dean!"

* * *

Thanks for reading - please review! 


	3. Chocolate Pudding

Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING!

On a side note I am disappointed at the small number of reviews I've received. Come _ON! _puppy dog eyes How hard is it to push that little button? ;-)

* * *

"Do you know how close you came to breaking something much more important than you leg?" Sam asked Dean as the doctor left the small room of the Dale Woods hospital.

"Sam I didn't break my leg. I have a fracture of the talus. There is a difference… apparently." Dean stared down at the cast covering his left leg to his knee. "Look at this thing! It's frigging ridiculous! I will barely be able to drive with this!"

"No, you'll barely be able to get in the car. You _wont _be able to drive," Sam said, smiling insincerely. Dean looked horrified. At that moment a pretty young nurse walked in, smiling optimistically at the brothers despite her tired eyes.

"Brian right? Brian Johnson?" she asked, smiling at Dean. Dean was preoccupied staring at his cast so he nodded vaguely in reply. The nurse looked at Sam. "Sorry I don't know your name…"

"I'm his brother-" began Sam.

"Angus," Dean cut in, looking up at the nurse and beaming. "I was just thinking I need a… nice nurse in here. You know, because I have a few questions." The nurse laughed and playfully hit Dean's shoulder.

"You can call me Meredith, sweetie. Doctor Rogers is busy with patients so I'm here to answer your questions and discuss cast care."

"Well I have _always _been interested in cast care, Meredith," Dean said with a grin. Sam rolled his eyes and stared at the wall, smiling. He was in awe at Dean's ability to focus on the bright side of a situation. When Sam had broken his leg years ago he'd been upset about it to the point that he had cried when he found out he'd need the cast for twelve weeks. Granted, he had been nine. But that still meant he expected Dean to have a more dramatic reaction.

"I'm supposed to fit you for crutches-" began the nurse. Dean's face lit up at the idea of getting fitted for crutches by the nurse. "-but," she continued, "you look like you like to go faster… so I'll get you a nice speedy wheelchair." Deans expression seemed to be halfway between happiness at the prospect of a new toy with wheels and sadness at the prospect of no crutch-fitting. The nurse left the room in search of a wheelchair, looking over he shoulder at Dean.

"See Sam? Being so damn handsome gets you places. Which is why _I _scored the wheelchair. You should try that out sometime. Maybe comb your hair a bit different, put on the ol' puppy-dog eyes…" Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure I could score a wheelchair too, if I wanted one."

"Yeah, only because they don't have any crutches tall enough."

* * *

Sam wheeled Dean to the door of the motel room. They had been stuck in the hospital for hours, so it was early morning and little was on the brother's minds besides sleep. Sam opened the door and looked around while Dean attempted to wheel himself through the door.

"Damn this thing is hard. You need to line it up just right first…"

"Maybe if you gave her the ol' puppy dog eyes Meredith would have given you a newer chair," Sam said, chuckling. "No, we can't stay here Dean."

"Why not? I need sleep!"

"Look at the bathroom! How are you going to get in that shower? And there's no kitchen sink or anything."

"You've never cared before…"

"You've never had your leg in a cast before. You're going to be spending a _lot _of time here, Dean. We need a sink. Wait here, I'll get our room upgraded." Dean stared after Sam as he strode to the reception desk in the opposite building. Sam handed the tired looking man a credit card and soon came back brandishing a different key.

"Hey Dean, I got the last two bedroom place!"

"Sammy you find that far too exciting."

Sam wheeled Dean to the new room and seemed very pleased to see a kitchen sink. Dean immediately threw himself onto one of the double beds, causing him to yelp out in pain. He soon fell asleep.

* * *

Dean awoke to his leg throbbing and the sounds of Sam moving in the apartment. Sam walked in Dean's bedroom.

"I'm just going out to the shops. Do you need anything?"

"Shops? Now? Why?" Dean questioned in a sleepy haze.

"Because we need groceries."

"Since when do you go grocery shopping?"

"Dean, you're going to be staying here for a while and you'll need food. We can't go out for _every meal_. Do you want anything?" Dean shook his head to align his thoughts.

"Maybe some chocolate pudding cups…" he said softly.

"Dean, you've always hated chocolate pudding." There was a pause.

"Sam, _Dad _hated chocolate pudding." Dean tried to fill the awkward silence by reaching for his prescribed painkillers, mysteriously left on his bedside table. Sam left the room in a hurry and came back with a glass of water.

"Ok, I'm going, Dean."

"Do you want me to lock the door, Mommy, so strangers can't come in?" Dean asked, mock wide-eyed in fear.

"Hey, you'd better be nice to me if you want pudding."


	4. Free Sundae

Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you like this chapter.

Disclaimer: There is ownership. But it is not mine.

* * *

"Dean, you're lucky most things in this town are all within walking distance from the motel," Sam said as they walked (or, in Dean's case, wheeled) into the kitschy diner for lunch. The brothers had strayed in their motel for three days straight after Dean's accident. Perhaps it would have been much longer had Dean not announced the pain in his leg had receded and he was ready to face the demands of the outside world. The reality that Dean's leg was hurting him worse than ever was living testament to the fact that most guys will go to great lengths for a good burger and a side of fries.

Which was exactly what was on Dean's mind has he manoeuvred his chair into the awkwardly shaped doorway of Miller's Diner. Sam had given up attempting to help Dean as help was never accepted gratefully - though help was required less and less as Dean became accustomed to using the squeaky wheelchair.

"No, Sam, I think _you're _the lucky one. Another day trapped in that room with you, geekboy, and you'd have been chucked out on your ass."

"Not if I pushed you over and you couldn't get up," Sam replied quietly. Dean's face flushed a little at the memory of his first day in the motel room when he fell off the bed. He'd urgently needed to use the bathroom and had to ring Sam's cell phone so he could help him up. Sam had come home early from grocery shopping and helped Dean into his chair - neither had said a word about it since.

"Bitch."

The diner was painted light-blue in an attempt to capture a nostalgic 50's feel but the random assortment of artwork on the walls and the mismatched tan seats ruined the effect and made the diner look like the place that good taste forgot.

As he sat down at a hideous booth Sam noticed Dean was having considerable trouble sliding into the seat - despite the fact that he had spent days managing, somewhat awkwardly, to manoeuvre himself. It was clear to Sam why when Dean sighed heavily, a look of utter helplessness on his face, and glanced at a dark-haired waitress who immediately rushed over in concern.

Sam exhaled and roughly pushed Dean into the seat with a plastic smile on his face.

"Thanks, Sam…" Dean said through clenched teeth.

"That's so sweet, helping your friend out like that," the waitress said in her high pitched voice. She was wearing a blue uniform that matched the walls and a nametag that read 'Hi! I'm Nicki!'.

"Yeah, he's my brother," Dean said, kicking Sam under the table.

"Aww, that's so nice! When my roommate had a knee reconstruction I got so frustrated helping her hobble around. You are so _good _to put up with it like that," she said, beaming at Sam as Dean glared to himself. "So what'll it be?"

"I'll have the classic beef burger," Sam said, glancing at the laminated menu. "With extra onions. And a coke."

"Well, Nicki, I'll have the double beef burger with extra fries, a large chocolate thickshake and a bowl of spicy chicken wings," Dean said, sounding irritated. Nicki repeated the order, winked at Sam and left the booth. Sam stared at Dean.

"What? You're paying…" Dean said in response to Sam's expression. "This is my first shot at real food for three days!"

"I made you eggs for breakfast!"

Nicki soon came over, balancing the large amount of food on a worn-looking silver tray. She placed a large chocolate nut sundae in front of Sam.

"For you, sweetie. It's on me," she said in a whisper, giving Sam another wink. Dean gaped at Sam as Nicki walked away bouncily.

"That is not fair! I break my leg and _you _get free food!"

"Fracture of the talus, Dean - and I didn't even have to put on 'the ol' puppy dog eyes'," Sam said, looking triumphant. Dean scoffed.

"It's just 'cause of this chair. She couldn't see my ass," said Dean lightly. "If I wasn't temporarily disabled it would have been _me _getting that free sundae."

"Hey Sam! Dean!" The brothers turned to see Jennifer, dressed in a blue waitress's uniform, walking towards them. "Dean, how's the leg?"

"Peachy."

Jennifer looked at the untouched sundae sitting in front of Sam. "Did Nicki give you that?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah. Oh… I can pay for it if you want-"

"No, don't worry about it. So... hows the hunt going?" Jennifer's expression changed from perky to serious.

"Oh, we've been, uh, researching for three days," Dean said quickly. "The working theory is demon possession, but we found no traces of sulphur. We'll have to question people who were with Annie that day. And anyone who was with Tom too."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Nicki was working the same shift as Annie and I that night. And I think my boyfriend, Dylan, was with Tom the day he disappeared."

"Do you know where we could catch him?"

"He works as a manager at the mall during the day. Tonight his friend's having a Halloween party – that's where I'll see him next. Maybe you two could come? Starts at eight-thirty. The house is opposite mine on Blake road."

"I'm not really that into Halloween…" Dean said wearily.

"Oh, it's a costume party, but you don't have to dress up. It should be fun! I bet you two have been starved for fun doing all that research."

"We'll see if we can make it," Dean said in a non-committal way. Jennifer left and Sam and Dean finished their meals (Dean ate Sam's complimentary sundae). Nicki came over to take their plates and Sam asked her if Annie had been strange the day she disappeared.

"No, she was fine," Nicki replied. "In fact she was excited. She had just got a job interview at the pet shop and was asking me what she should wear. She's always wanted to be a vet but she can't afford college right now. I told her that experience in that sorta field would-"

"Yes, thanks Nicki," Dean said abruptly. Nicki left carrying the silver tray now stacked with dirty plates. "So whaddya think, college boy?"

"About what?"

"The disappearances. The freak with super-human strength who's taking promising young adults and doing God-knows-what with 'em."

"I don't know, Dean."

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of."

* * *

Dean's laughter echoed throughout the brick motel room. He was watching an old rerun of _Hogan's Heroes _on an outdated television set. Sam walked in the room, fresh out of the shower.

"Dean, what time do you want to get there?" he asked, pulling on a tee shirt.

"Where, Sammy?" Dean's attention was firmly on the television set.

"Jennifer's boyfriend's friend's party. We can talk to everyone who was with Tom before he went missing."

"What? We're not going."

"Why aren't we going?" Dean paused, obviously looking for a reason.

"Well I just thought we weren't going. I didn't think you were in a party mood. Just thought we'd stay here. Watch Letterman."

"I'm not staying home just to watch Letterman. Is your leg bothering you? Is that why you wanna stay home?"

"I don't _wanna _stay home; I just thought we… were."

"Fine. You wanna stay home? I'll go."

"What? No, I'll go if-"

"Do you need me to stay home? In case you need help?"

"Fine, go. You should get some questioning done," Dean said, facing the television again.

"I can stay home if you want me to, Dean."

"I said _go. _I don't need you to stay anyway," said Dean with a sigh. "Do you have a costume?"

"I'm not sure… I'd need to find it in here," Sam called from his bedroom.

"You can't just throw a sheet over your head Sammy. Not unless you want to go as a very stylish taupe ghost…"

"Found it!" Sam called. He walked through to the bathroom carrying something constructed from black fabric.

"Sam? Whaddya got there?"

Sam emerged minutes later wearing a Reverend's suit and collar. He had combed his hair back and put on a large gold cross pendant.

"You still _have _that?" Dean said, a smirk across his face.

"You never know when it might come in handy. How do I look?"

"You look hot." Sam glared at Dean. "Well I don't know, you look… Godly?"

"…Thanks."

"It's not very Halloween-ey though, is it?"

"Well it's this or a knife wielding murderer. And I thought that might be a bad idea. You know, considering…"

"Plus you could never pull off knife-wielding murderer, Sammy. You look much too innocent."

"It's Sam. And was that a compliment?"

"No. No it wasn't."

* * *

Thanks for taking the time to read this. And yes - the plot will be going somewhere soon. I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed! Should I include more angst, humour, romance etc.?


	5. The Sandman

Thank you all for reading! I hope you like this chapter - this story seems to be much longer than I thought! I thought it would only take me five chapters but here I am and I'm only about halfway through!

Disclaimer: Do not own any of the GOOD characters. Or concepts.

* * *

Sam stared regretfully at the colourful-looking partiers. He was slightly disappointed that his costume required no cool props, fake blood, fangs or wigs and was, essentially, an uncomfortable suit and collar. He looked around for Jennifer, but she was nowhere to be found among the zombies, vampires and angels. 

"You don't look like you're having fun."

Sam turned to see the voice coming from a woman dressed in a floaty white dress. His first thought was that she was a woman-in-white, but then realised that that was simply part of her costume. She wore none of the dramatic make-up that he saw on the other women at the party, aside from dark brown eyeliner that emphasised her strikingly green eyes. She smiled a lopsided smile and nodded towards Sam's costume.

"I like it, it's original." She had a round face with average features, but there was something graceful in the way she held herself that made her attractive. Her auburn hair was wavy and loosely gathered at the base of her neck so that long tendrils fell down around her face.

"Your costume's nice too. It's uh…" Sam trailed off feebly.

"You don't know what I am, do you?"

"You're… a ghost bride?"

"Close." She turned her head, showing Sam a place where a section of hair had been picked up to reveal two painted wounds on her neck. "I'm a victim." Sam nodded.

"Clever… I wish I'd picked something that involved gore or a mask or _something_," Sam said, indicating a very convincing zombie who was clutching a can of beer.

"No, your costume's great. After a point every zombie looks the same… No offence," she added, as the zombie gave her a questioning look. "So why haven't I seen you before? Another of Jack and Dylan's college friends?"

"No, no… I am Jennifer's… very distant cousin. So I don't really know anyone here. I'm Sam, by the way."

"Well, Sam, now you know me."

"Hey, Sam," Jennifer said, appearing out of nowhere. "I didn't know if you'd show up."

"Bye, Sam," said the green eyed woman he'd been talking to. She disappeared into the party crowd.

"Oh…" Sam said, staring after her. "Uh, yeah. Dean couldn't make it. I think his leg was hurting him."

"That's too bad…" Jennifer nodded slowly. The silence was broken when a cheerful looking guy walked up and threw his arms around Jennifer. He was dressed in bright blue pyjamas and a red pointed hat, and was carrying what appeared to be a small bag of dirt.

"Sam, this is Dylan, my boyfriend."

"What's up?" Dylan said in greeting. He nodded at Sam's costume. "Nice."

"Thanks. Sorry, I don't know what you're supposed to be," Sam said slowly.

"I'm The Sandman," Dylan said simply.

"Dylan," Jennifer began. "Sam is the guy I called about Annie and… Tom." Jennifer spoke softly to Dylan, whose face fell at the mention of his friend. "It's okay, Sam. He won't tell anyone what you do."

"Mainly because I don't really _know_ what it is you do. But I understand that if something... weird happened to Tom and Annie you'd be able to find out what it is."

"Dean and I'll try," Sam said with a smile. Dylan nodded detachedly. "So you were with Tom the day he disappeared?"

Dylan looked up at Sam.

"Yeah I was at his house that night. Until about ten-thirty." Jennifer furrowed her eyebrows at Dylan's words.

"No, Dylan, that can't be right. I went over his house at ten and he wasn't there," Jennifer said, turning to Dylan.

"Oh, uh," Dylan stammered. "It must have been earlier then. Maybe about nine. We watched a movie." Dylan seemed to be talking to Jennifer more than Sam.

"Did he seem weird at all? Was he freaked out about something?" Sam asked. Dylan hesitated.

"Not that I remember. He was just normal. Does it matter?" Dylan seemed eager to change the subject.

"It depends. Dean and I aren't sure what this thing is, but if there is a reason it just went after Tom and Annie that would help. He didn't say anything about something strange happening to him? Seeing and hearing things, weird dreams…"

"Like I said, no. He was just normal. I gotta go see Jack. Nice meeting you Sam," Dylan said hurriedly. He gave Sam a quick handshake and went off in search of his friend Jack.

"He seemed… disturbed," Sam said softly to Jennifer.

"The Sandman thing? Well, he's a Metallica fan."

"No, I mean-"

"Yeah, I know… Well, his good friend is missing. Everyone's a bit disturbed actually." Jennifer looked out at the party crowd. "You probably think it's weird. Having a party, now. But Jack wanted this party and we all kind of agreed that… well we don't know what's happened. So why be sad now?"

"You can't help being sad when something happens to someone close to you," Sam said seriously.

"Well, yeah. But you can try to live as normally as possible. What's the point of shutting yourself up? There'll be time for all that later, when we know what's going on." Jennifer was silent.

"Oh, if anyone asks, Dean and I are your distant cousins." Jennifer nodded vaguely.

"Excuse me, Sam. I have to go find Dylan before he starts throwing sand on people again." Jennifer left, looking distracted.

Sam walked around the house in search of the bathroom and was spotted by Nicki the waitress, who waved enthusiastically. Sam hid behind a group of people dressed as zombies and saw a drunk-looking vampire searching the halls. Sam laughed to himself when he saw the green eyed "victim" duck behind a snack table in hiding.

"Caught you," he said softly as she stood up once the vampire had gone.

"You did, Father. Promise you won't tell him," she said with a smile.

"I won't, but you might have to go confession for your sin." Sam inwardly grimaced at the lameness of his own joke, but to his surprise the woman laughed.

"I guess it's my fault for coming dressed as this. Vampires are drawn to me." Sam laughed.

"I didn't catch your name before," Sam said slowly.

"It's Courtney. I'm Jennifer's friend from the Diner."

"Oh, so you know Annie?" Sam asked, trying to sound casual. Courtney nodded at the ground. "Did you see her the day she went missing?"

"When she was taken? No, I didn't work any shifts that day. I didn't know her very well anyway." Sam nodded. "I only moved here a few weeks ago. My uncle died and he has a house here which he left to my Mom. She figured someone should use it, so I'm here earning money for college or… something."

"Oh. I'm sorry about your uncle."

"Oh, that's okay. I never actually met the guy. Aw, crap." Courtney hid behind Sam as the vampire appeared, still conducting a very thorough search. "I gotta go. Nice meeting you Sam."

* * *

Sam wasn't too surprised to find Dean still watching television when he returned to the motel room. 

"Well, you look partied out," Dean said sarcastically. Sam laughed.

"Yeah, guess I didn't feel like staying for long."

"You find out anything?"

"Not really. I spoke to Jennifer's boyfriend, Dylan. He was with Tom the night he disappeared."

"And?"

"And he seemed… suspicious. I think he knows something, but he wasn't telling me. We'll go talk to him tomorrow."

"We? You mean you're not just going to leave me here again?"

"What? Dean, you wanted to stay here!"

"I could've gone to that party," Dean said with a grumble.

"You _told _me to go without you! What the _fuck, _Dean?"

"Yeah, well that didn't mean you had to _go_!"

"Dean, _I_ can't read your mind! I know you don't like being 'temporarily disabled'. But you can't take it out on _me._" Dean looked down and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

"It's not just that, Sammy. Now that Dad's gone I'm all that's left for you. And something is going to happen… to you. _Something. _And I can't be there to stop it… if I'm stuck here." Sam was silent. The brothers sat together, looking at the television but not really paying attention to it. It was minutes before the silence was broken.

"Was _Nicki _there?" Dean said with a vindictive smile.

"Yeah, I didn't speak to her. Dean, I promise I won't leave you in this room again."

"You'd better not. What if I was attacked and couldn't run away or reach my gun?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"I don't know. Keep a knife under the wheelchair?"

"Way ahead of you, Sammy…"

* * *

Thanks again for reading it! Review and tell me what you think: yay or nay? 


	6. Dean In Love

Several warnings: I do not like writing angst or anything remotely serious – but it had to be done. Hence the horridness of the beginning of this chapter. Secondly, I know NOTHING about cars. Just remember that. And I do not wish to offend people who like dance music – if you are offended, take it up with the fictional character.

Also writing is becoming kind of annoying and now I write purely for the sick validation of reviews. If I get none, the writing WILL stop. Do not think that is an empty threat. ;-)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Even the hand attached to my arm belongs to a short balding man somewhere in Tibet. And the bidding on my eyebrows is in progress.

* * *

Dean's face was taut with concentration as he climbed over the thick silver ropes. Sam was stuck nearer the top of the bundle, trying to wriggle his way free, but the ropes tightened and twisted around him. Sam squinted to see his surroundings, but everything just seemed eerily blurred. Everything except Dean's face. Dean had pulled out a curved silver knife and was slashing at the ropes but it seemed to have no effect. The ropes had bound around his wrists, forcing him to drop the knife. Dean tried to climb to reach it again but couldn't because something was holding him back: Sam noticed Dean's leg was encased in a ridiculously huge cast. Sam realised with a sinking heart that Dean could not save him – as much as he wanted to – and that he would have to find a way to save himself. Despite his increased efforts to escape, he was being pulled down into the mass of ropes and as he descended saw blurred faces flash around him: His Mom, Jess, his Dad…

Something inside Sam snapped. He could not let Dean become one of those faces. It was not a case of Dean saving _him, _it was that _he _had to save _Dean. _Sam called out to Dean, hoping that Dean had not given up entirely, but Dean didn't reply. It was then that Sam saw Dean fall into the blackness and land inexplicably against a tree. Sam gave himself into the fall, the pull downwards, and found himself crouched beside Dean. He seemed largely uninjured – his body was intact - but his leg was badly bruised and his neck had a bit of a bend in it, a bend far more exaggerated than normal. A bend that wasn't there in the forest in Dale Woods.

* * *

Sam woke with a start. His dreams had always been vivid and mildly ridiculous; Sam supposed that was the result of being raised to believe in different things, to have seen unbelievable things. But there was a nagging part of him that told him these vivid dreams were the result of something emotional that hadn't yet escaped.

"Shit."

As usual, images from Sam's dream were ricocheting around his tired head. While this was more than slightly annoying, Sam was glad that it was a dream that wasn't completely centred around his Dad's death.

"Sam?" he heard from Dean's room. Dean was clearly awake from, Sam supposed, the noise he made during his sleep. Sam often murmured when dreaming, a fact that he often regretted as these dreams often included ones of a more personalnature.

"Mmmm?" Sam replied incoherently.

"You frigging woke me up! You'd better be dying," Dean said bitterly. Sam heard the rustle of Dean's sheets and the squeak of his wheelchair. Dean appeared in Sam's bedroom doorway seconds later, looking disordered and confused. "You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine. Just… had a dream," Sam said casually while busying himself by fixing up his scattered pillows. Dean's eyes grew wide.

"Was this one of your, you know… _special_ dreams?" Dean asked, waving his arms around to indicate 'special'. "Do we need to leave?"

"No, no. It was just a normal dream," Sam said quietly. There was a pause.

"It didn't sound like a normal dream."

"I didn't say it was a _good _dream."

"Well, yeah. I can tell when you're having a _good _dream. What's the matter, Sammy?" Dean said, pouting in mock-sympathy. "Clowns after you again?"

"Shut up."

* * *

The brothers sat down in the same booth in Millers diner. Sam saw a flash of dark hair attached to a blue-uniformed body and immediately hid his face behind his menu.

"It's not Nicki," Dean said in a bored voice. Sam tried hard not to look relieved. "Dude, I might need to teach you how to deal with all this sudden female attention."

"I _can _deal with it… I'd just rather… not…" Sam said, peering nervously at the diner counter.

"Keep pulling that face, Sam, and you won't have to."

"Hey guys!" said a voice. It was Jennifer dressed in her waitress's uniform. "What can I get you? Full breakfast?"

"Thanks. Say, is Nicki around? Sam'd like to see her," Dean said with a grin as Sam glared at him. Jennifer's face fell.

"Nicki isn't here. I'm doing her shift because she didn't show up at work. She left the party last night, no-one's seen her since and there's no answer at her house. People think that maybe she went home with someone, but I don't think she'd miss work," Jennifer said in a hushed voice. She smiled. "To tell you the truth I kind of thought she might have gone home with you, Sam." Sam tried to avoid Dean's smirk.

"So do you think she was taken too?" Sam asked as he kicked Dean under the table.

"I'm not sure. She probably _is _at some guy's house. But it's still weird, isn't it?" Jennifer said, mostly to herself. Jennifer left, distracted by her thoughts.

"So another one missing…" Sam said softly.

"And we have no idea who or what's taking these people, or why," Dean said, his voice mock-excited.

"Well, Dean, we really haven't done much on this case…"

"Speak for yourself. Last night while you were out I Googled Dale Woods. Nothing, besides plane wreck and the regular missing kids. So there really isn't that much to _do _on this case."

"You used my computer?" Sam said, torn between looking impressed or horrified. "Looks like you're becoming a bit of a geek yourself, Dean. How'd you crack my password?" Dean smiled.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'd like to find out what that Dylan guy's hiding."

"I'm changing my password."

* * *

"There it is, number twenty-four," Dean called, quite a way ahead of Sam. He'd mastered the use of his ancient-looking wheelchair and was now, to Sam's annoyance, able to move with impressive speed. "You sure he's home, Sam? Doesn't look like it…"

"Jennifer said he's off work today. He might not be home," Sam said, now jogging quite fast to catch up with Dean.

"Sam!" Sam turned to see that he had just jogged past Courtney. She was walking a Labrador and wearing sweats. Her hair was tucked under a wide cowboy hat which she lifted a little so Sam could see her face properly.

"Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn't see you."

"Sam!" Dean called from the front of Dylan's house.

"I have to-" Sam began.

"That's fine. You're looking for Dylan? He should be back any moment." Courtney walked with Sam to where Dean was sitting in his wheelchair. "I was just going to see Dylan too. He's out at the shops now."

"This is my brother Dean. Dean, this is Courtney. She was at the Halloween party."

"Well I'll be damned. Two handsome brothers in the one family," Courtney said in mock awe.

"Nice dog," Dean said flatly.

"My uncle's dog. His house is just there," she replied, pointing at a house across the street. "Here he is." A deep red car pulled into the driveway. Dylan got out of the driver's seat wearing a Motorhead tee-shirt.

"Dude," Dean said in admiration. "Nice car."

"It's a '74 Monte Carlo. It's my life."

"I have '67 Impala myself. I'm Dean. A fellow classic rock fan," Dean said, shaking Dylan's hand.

"We're a dying breed. Nowadays it's all about that fucking dance shit…" Dylan said, shaking his head. "You're Sam's brother?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "We're both Jennifer's cousins." Dylan nodded, glancing at Courtney.

"Sam tells me you're friends with Tom," Dean said to Dylan.

"Yeah," Dylan said quietly. He grabbed a fistful of his own shirt and absent-mindedly wiped a non-existent smudge off the shiny paint of his car. Sam and Courtney began to chat casually. Dylan looked at them and then down at Dean. "Do you think you could find out what happened to him?"

"Well that depends. You say you were with him that night and left him at his house. But I don't believe you." Dylan was silent. "Anything you say could help us. And if you keep lying, man, we'll find out."

"Okay… promise you wont, you know, tell anyone?"

"Depends what it is."

"Well I wasn't with Tom that night. But I swear I do not know what happened to him," Dylan said in a whisper.

"Well, where _were _you?"

"Look, man. I love Jennifer. But that night we'd kind of been fighting and… I went to see Courtney." Dylan glanced at Sam and Courtney, who were so deep in conversation they didn't seem to hear. "We'd kind of become friends and I thought…"

"So you didn't see Tom at all that night?"

"I did. But I was there for, like, ten minutes, tops. And then I went to Courtney's. Nothing really happened, she told me to go home… but it'd kill Jennifer if she found out. Don't tell her…" Dean nodded.

"I wont, man."

* * *

"So what's Dylan say? Not about Chevy maintenance or the best AC/DC album – but about Tom?" Sam asked later in the motel room.

"Aww, Sam you're just jealous coz Dylan and I are so much cooler than you. Dylan said he was only with Tom for ten minutes that night. He spent a while at Courtney's and he doesn't want Jennifer to find out." Sam raised his eyebrows.

"You know, Courtney told me Tom was a regular at the diner." There was a pause.

"Was that supposed to be interesting or were you trying to be funny?"

"No, but Annie and Nicki both worked there. And Tom ate there all the time. It's possible that whatever took them came from that diner."

"Oh, so like Miller's ghost?"

"Miller is the owner. He's still alive. He cooked our breakfast this morning."

"Whatever. So you think the diner could be haunted?"

"It is an old building. We should take a look."

"After it closes tonight. Then we can get a real thorough look at it." Sam nodded. "Damn Sam, you've just sent my plans to shit. I was gonna watch that DVD Dylan lent me. _Jurassic Park._ He offered me _Ghost _and _Poltergeist _but they seemed a little…" Dean pulled a face. "But this seemed too ridiculous to pass up. Dinosaurs-" Dean said, chuckling. "- that's just friggin crazy."

"You've never seen _Jurassic Park_?"

"When would _I _get the chance to see _Jurassic Park_, Sam? Dylan said it was pretty good. It's his favourite movie, you know." Sam leaned over to Dean and took his hand.

"You know, Dean, I think you're in love," he said, nodding.

"Shut up."

* * *

REVIEW! You know you want to! 


	7. Ketchup Stains

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural-ey.

This chapter is shorter than the last. EXCITING.

* * *

"Dean!" Sam hissed. Dean grimaced at the squeaks of his wheelchair as he manoeuvred it over the darkened steps outside Millers Diner.

"Well I'm _sorry_. If you haven't noticed it's getting difficult to do the whole stealth James Bond thing. And I'm really not that far from James Bond. I'm dreadfully handsome, I'm a great shot, I get the girls-" Dean saw Sam smirk in the dim security light. "…most of the time… _and_ I have a job where I get to kill things."

"But you kill things that are already dead. And you don't wear a suit."

"A suit would make the stealth bit even harder," Dean said, focused on retrieving something stashed under the wheelchair. He leaned over to reach further and the wheelchair tilted. Dean fell sideways to the ground but righted himself quickly, creating a series of squeaks and cracks that echoed through the back alley.

"Dammit Dean!" Sam exclaimed, forgetting to be hushed. He snatched the small container of lock-picking tools from Dean's wheelchair and turned towards the door. "Why did you come here if all you're gonna do is make noise? I can look around this place myself."

"Sam, you might need me to pick the lock. You've never been great at this type of-" Dean stopped when the lock clicked ceremoniously and Sam pushed the door open. "How'd you do that? The last time you tried to pick one of these locks you were fourteen."

"Well sometimes at Stanford I'd have to find a way into the library to get a book or something."

"I'd be proud if that wasn't so geeky." Sam let out a frustrated breath.

"I'm serious, Dean. This thing will be easier if you just let me do it by myself. I don't even think you can get in this door."

"Maybe I just shouldn't have come at all. You didn't need me to pick the lock."

"Well you seem to have a problem with staying in the room. But if that's over now, go back to the motel. Go watch _Jurassic Park_." Dean scoffed.

"Sam if I had a night to myself I wouldn't spend it watching _Jurassic Park_."

"You _did _have a night to yourself. And you spent it watching _Hogan's Heroes _and Letterman." Sam walked into the kitchen of the diner as Dean looked on through the doorframe.

"Maybe I don't want to spend another night watching bad TV. I need to have… fun." Dean said. Sam appeared in the doorway, clutching the EMF meter which was formerly a walkman.

"So you wanna go out to a bar or something later?" he said, walking back and forth trying to get a reading.

"No, I need more grown-up fun. Which you wouldn't be there for."

Sam stopped pacing the darkened kitchen and looked at Dean. "So you're gonna wheel around the local bar trying to pick up girls?"

"No. Maybe. I'd probably just give someone a call. That cute nurse at the hospital… Meredith?"

"What happened to wanting to stay with me in case something happened?" Sam asked with a small smile.

"I dunno, man. I think I was just whacked out on painkillers or something…" Dean said casually. Sam gave Dean a look. "Fine, I _was _worried. But hiding is stupid. I can't let it stop you and especially _me _from having fun." Sam nodded. "But… you're not going hunting by yourself." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Tomorrow night. It'll give me a chance to have some fun, too." Dean cast Sam a look. "Different fun."

"You finally gonna catch up with Sarah?" Dean asked, nodding knowingly.

"No. I was thinking Courtney. She gave me her number today. And she's local."

"Oh yeah. But Courtney? Really?"

"Well, I was planning on asking her about the diner. And what's wrong with her anyway?"

"That's just like you, geekboy, to only date for work. And there's nothing _wrong _with her. I just thought you and Sarah had this… _thing_ going. You didn't seem to have the same sort of thing with this Courtney chick."

"Well, she's great. She's funny and we actually have a lot of stuff in common."

"Shit!" Dean exclaimed.

"Jealous?"

"No, I saw someone. Something, over there," Dean said in a whisper, pulling out a gun tucked down the side of the wheelchair. He looked over at the shadows at the end of the alley.

"Maybe it was the owner?" Sam asked, looking around. He stepped out of the diner kitchen and silently walked closer to the shadows. "I don't see anything."

They both heard a rustle of movement in the diner and the flick of a switch. The security light went out. Sam and Dean stayed still, listening. Dean cocked the gun and looked meaningfully at Sam. He carefully turned towards the doorway and looked inside, gun drawn. Sam clutched the dormant EMF meter and decided it didn't look very threatening. He cursed himself for not bringing a gun or rock salt.

Something dark stirred and Dean shot at it, smashing a window. It rushed towards Dean, knocking him out of the wheelchair which had become wedged in the doorframe. Dean swore and dropped the gun. It skidded out of reach of his grasp.

Sam instinctively scrambled over the wheelchair towards Dean, but the creature pushed Sam backwards and he slammed against a wall, knocking down shelves of ketchup and salt shakers. Dean awkwardly rolled his way closer to his gun and picked it up. Sam regained his balance and pulled out a thick curved knife. Dean fired a number of shots throughout the diner, missing Sam's leg by inches. The creature leaped out of the broken window and ran off, weaving through the neighbourhood.

"Well that was… fun…" Dean said, still flat on the floor. "Little help?"

"What _was _that?" Sam said, staring out the window as he helped Dean back into the chair.

"I dunno. But I got the feeling it had something against us. Did you pick up anything on the EMF meter?"

"Naw, but think it could be busted." Dean took his creation from Sam and quickly inspected it before putting it in his jacket pocket.

"Did you see it jump like that? And it pushed you pretty hard there," Dean said, indicating the ketchup-soiled shelves piled on the ground. "I shot it. It didn't even feel the shot."

"That wasn't a person. Might have been someone possessed. Could have been a lot of things, Dean."

"It still ran." There was a pause as the brothers stared through the broken window.

"We should probably go. We just broke a window, trashed a kitchen and fired a few rounds into a noticeboard," Sam said, surveying the diner in the darkness.

"I was _just _thinking that."

* * *

"So what was that you were saying earlier? You want the room to yourself tomorrow?" Sam asked Dean as they walked and wheeled respectively towards the motel. He glanced at his watch. "Well, tonight?"

"Yeah. I think it'd do you some good. You know, get… socialised…" Dean trailed off pathetically.

"I think it'd do _you _some good," Sam said as he opened the motel room door. "I need to go speak to Courtney anyway and 'maybe you wouldn't be so crabby all the time.'"

"Ha-ha. So you think this thing is tied to Millers Diner?"

"Dammit, this was clean," said Sam, taking off his ketchup soaked shirt. "Well it wasn't _inside_ the diner. It only went in after we opened the door,"

"…so?"

"So it doesn't _live _there. But yeah, I think it could be related. But why would something be killing people associated with a diner?" Sam asked, more to himself than a disinterested Dean.

"Food poisoning revenge?"

"Unless it's just random-"

"Sam, shut up. I'm going to take my painkillers and then I'm going to sleep. And I am not listening to you anymore because my head hurts."

"Dean you _are _crabby."

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review - because you owe me. ;-) 


	8. Mullet Rock

Disclaimer: I own nothing, etc.

* * *

Sam smirked to himself as he pulled away from the motel in the Impala. He could practically feel Dean's rage at Sam using his car. But, as had Sam explained earlier, being a brother was all about compromise – while he had been kicked out of the motel room (though this was something Sam was not upset about as he did not particularly want to witness Dean and his "date" watch _Jurassic Park, _or drink cherry Kool-Aid or do any number of things he preferred not to think about) at least he had use of the car for one night. Or at least until midnight. 

Sam glanced at his watch. Due to Dean's eagerness to have the motel to himself, Sam still had twenty-six minutes until he had to pick Courtney up from her house and take her to _Salé, _a small restaurant on the other side of town. He decided to take the opportunity to see some of the more scenic views of Dale Woods and took a large detour through the woodlands. Somehow being in the driver's seat made everything more interesting - though this was perhaps due to the fact that this was the first journey in a long while that wasn't hurriedly taken to reach a motel by check-in time.

Sam wound down his window and the earthy smell of the trees hit him instantly and told him it was going to rain soon. Though Sam appreciated the smells and the stillness, and the air whipping his not-so-carefully-styled hair about his ears, he did feel that something was missing. He glanced at the Impala tape player and pushed the nearest tape in. Driving just wasn't driving anymore without mullet-rock, Sam decided, and he felt more at ease than he had in months as he sat listening to the opening of _Shoot To Thrill_.

It seemed by accident that a short while later Sam was knocking on Courtney's large front door, appropriately on time. Courtney answered immediately and smiled at Sam. She was wearing jeans and a top that matched the shade of green of her eyes, and had pulled up half of her hair in an effort to draw attention to her eyes and detract from her unusual face shape. After a stifled greeting she began to close the front door behind her but stopped when she, and Sam, noticed that she was not wearing shoes. She gave Sam an apologetic smile and hurried into the house, returning with a pair of small-heeled silver slides.

"Sorry, I've got everything now. Ready to go," she said, slipping on the shoes and moving towards the Impala in a funny sort of hopping walk.

She looked questioningly at Sam as he slid into the driver's seat. Sam was puzzled for a brief moment before realising the tape was still playing _You Shook Me All Night Long_, complete with the subtle vocals of Brian Johnson. Sam inwardly grimaced at himself as he switched off the tape.

"AC/DC fan, hey?" Courtney said lightly.

"Yes, well. Not really. This is… Dean's music. It's all that's in here," Sam replied as he started the Impala.

"I never really understood this classic rock. I'm not much of a music fan, really. Dylan _loves _rock music. But it all kind of sounds the same to me," Courtney said with a pleasant smile. Sam nodded, and was surprised when part of him felt a little bit offended. He understood that months of nothing but Dean's music had made him develop an appreciation for it, but didn't think he'd ever grow to enjoy it. Sam decided that this was something he'd keep to himself, as to avoid being on the receiving end of Dean's I-told-you-so expression and smug attitude for roughly the rest of his life.

* * *

"So why are you in Dale Woods?" Courtney asked as she sat down in one of _Salé's _polished wooden chairs. Sam had been pleasantly surprised upon entering the restaurant that he was neither under or over dressed – he'd discovered his fitted untucked shirt, worn open at the collar, and deceptively neat jeans were exactly what the dress code required. 

_Salé _(which, Sam remembered from very basic high school French, meant "salty") was one of those places that had seemed to exist forever and was frequented by tourists sick of family restaurants, couples celebrating anniversaries and friendly locals alike.

"Well, Dean and I are visiting Jennifer," Sam said after a small moment of panic. "And then Dean broke his leg, so we're-"

"Cut the crap, Sam. You don't visit a cousin and stay at a motel," Courtney said with a playful grin.

"Right… you don't…" Sam said, looking intently at his menu.

"Are you here because of what happened to Tom and Annie?" Courtney asked casually. "Because Nicki told me you were asking all sorts of questions, and you asked _me _the same things…" Sam smiled and looked at Courtney with honest eyes.

"Well, yes. I, well Dean and I, we're… friends with Jennifer. And the same kind of weird thing where people went missing happened near our home… in New Paltz. And we heard what happened and thought maybe we could help," Sam said as though he'd just said he'd come over to fix a light globe. As the lie came out Sam knew he made the right decisio

n not to tell the truth – he'd never really been great at the we-hunt-demons speech and he was pretty sure it would just make Courtney think he was insane. And while he wasn't denying the presence of something supernatural he was at least down-playing his affiliation with anything considered "weird". Courtney nodded slowly.

"Jennifer said that she saw something… like… paranormal take Annie. Is that what you think?"

"I don't know," Sam said, not entirely honestly. "It might have something to do with the diner though. Have you seen anything strange there lately?" Sam asked, taking the opportunity to question Courtney.

"Well, when I worked nights I used to hear weird noises around the back. I was supposed to work tonight actually, but it's closed. The diner got trashed."

"Oh, really?" Sam said, trying to achieve a balanced facial expression between surprise and confusion. He noted from his reflection in the darkened window that he merely looked pained, and thus adjusted his shirt as though it was uncomfortable to avoid appearing guilty.

"Yeah, the window was broken and there was ketchup everywhere. Some locals even said they heard shots," Courtney said, clearly puzzled. Sam looked around for the waiter.

* * *

"Dean?" Sam called as he stepped nervously into the motel room. 

"Eeeeyyy…" Dean replied, sounding not unlike Fonzie. "Have fun?" Dean was resting on the unattractive motel couch watching television - literally watching, as the sound was turned down ridiculously low. Sam wondered if Dean had even noticed.

"Yeah, I suppose. Not as much fun as you did, though," Sam said, indicating the empty bottles resting on the small coffee table.

"Why not, Sammy? Didn't she invite you in?" Dean said, slurring due to either tiredness or drunkenness. Sam gave Dean a sharp look. "Oh, she _did_… but _you _didn't want to go. Man, I told you you were still hung up on Sarah." Dean gave a lopsided grin and turned towards the nearly silent television. Sam stayed silent, mostly out of the knowledge that Dean (even in his current state) was right. Sam's cell rang, and he was extremely glad for the disruption.

"Hello?" he said after seeing an unrecognizable number flash across the screen.

"Sam?" It was Courtney.

"Oh… uh, hi," Sam said awkwardly.

"Who is it?" Dean mouthed. Sam turned around to face the wall.

"Look, I… I heard something at Dylan's place. Like a crash and the light's still on and I rang and he's not picking up…" Courtney sounded distressed and was talking quite rapidly. "…and I'd go over there but I don't know if there's anything there. And I thought, coz you know more about what's been happening, that you or your brother could come… take a look."

"Ok, stay there. I'll be over in a minute," Sam said before snapping the phone shut.

* * *

Wooo! End of chapter! Please reveiw :-) 


	9. Necessary Skill

Firstly: I condemn those people who regularly read my story and have not reviewed. And there's at least… thirty or so people who fall into that category. I could bribe you into reviewing – you review my story and I'll read and review yours. Ah, I sound so needy.

Secondly: This is a very short chapter. But I am almost done with the next one. Should be up within two hours of this one…

Thirdly: Who LOVED Hunted and Playthings??? Remember this is set after Crossroad Blues… so the characters aren't as enlightened as we are ;-)

Ok, I must stop the procrastination!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Apparently the only thing I "own" is the dishes. As I have had people say to me: "Nat, you are, like, OWNING the dishes!" Well only one person. Damn, I have a useless talent.

* * *

"Who was it?" Dean asked, suddenly sounding very serious. Sam's expression told him that he hadn't just received a happy phone call.

"Courtney," Sam said, looking thoughtful. Dean smirked.

"You gotta hand it to her. She's determined."

"No, Dean. She called because she heard something at Dylan's place. She wants me to come over," Sam said, looking anxious.

"I'll _bet _she wants you to come over," Dean replied, staring at the near-silent television.

"I'm going." Sam's expression was firm. "It could still be there."

"What? Sam, don't," Dean said, turning his attention away from the television. "We don't even know what it is." Dean attempted to look serious, but his eyes had a glazed quality to them and his words had slowed considerably.

"I didn't say I was going to go kill it. Maybe I can just go and get a look at it. Dean, the more we talk the less likely it is that that thing's still in the area. I'm going," Sam repeated.

"I'll come with you," Dean said, attempting to shift himself towards his wheelchair.

"No. You wont be able to get inside the car and we don't have time to walk. I have to go now. Alone." Sam put particular emphasis on these last words. Dean closed his eyes and inhaled.

"Just – just promise you'll be careful, alright?" he eventually said quickly, as though he wanted to spit the words our before he could take them back. Sam smiled.

"Yeah. I will."

* * *

Sam noted that Dylan's lights were still on as he walked up to Courtney's house. The pampered-looking Chevy was sitting in the driveway. Sam thought that if Dylan was anything like Dean he wouldn't waste a single opportunity to drive his car. He absent-mindedly felt for his pistol in his jacket pocket and knocked on Courtney's front door.

Sam waited. He knocked again, much louder this time. No-one came to the door.

Sam knocked on the door again, except this time it was more like a punch. "Courtney?" he called. "Courtney!" Sam heard no noise inside the house. The lights all seemed to be out, and the door was locked. "Shit."

Sam walked across the street, to Dylan's house. He ducked down below the front window which was giving off a soft light: clearly some of the lights further back in the house were on. Sam stayed still and listened. He heard the small scuffle of shoes on leaves and crouched down lower as he realised that the noise was coming closer. Courtney appeared from the side of the house and seemed startled to see Sam, conspicuously crouched below the window.

"Oh, I thought you weren't coming after all. I was just checking to see if he'd gone out back or something. He's still not picking up," Courtney said. She'd changed into an old t-shirt and her eyes looked tired and small. Sam stood up.

"Did you see anything?" he asked, brushing crushed particles of leaves off his jeans.

"No, I didn't even get into the backyard. The gate's locked and I can't open it from this side."

"I'll try the front door," Sam said, pulling out a small bundle of lock-breaking tools from his pocket. Sam began to work on the lock. Courtney stood and watched, clearly amazed by the swiftness of his skilled hands as he expertly manoeuvred the silver tools.

"Do I want to know?"

"Well, it's kind of a necessary skill," Sam said, clicking open the door. "For my family. I mean, at my home. In New Paltz."

"Ah, survival and 'life on the street'?"

"Something like that," Sam said as he furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm gonna look through the house. Do you want to stay here?" He pushed the door open.

"Yeah, I'll… stay here," Courtney said, giving the front yard of the house a nervous glance.

Sam crept into the house. The lights in the back had illuminated the front rooms just enough for him to make out his surroundings – and to see that there was nothing hiding in the shadows, waiting for him. Sam pulled out his pistol – a safety measure, he told himself – and walked through the rooms. He heard no noise except the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

There were dirty dishes in the sink and Sam noticed a wallet and a set of keys sitting on the counter. He inspected the keys in the light and saw that they were attached to an AC/DC bottle opener - there was no doubt in Sam's mind that these were Dylan's car keys. He heard a rustle behind him. Sam whipped around, gun drawn, but he was too slow. The baseball bat swung towards him with incredible speed and he dropped to the floor.

* * *

Again, I am so sorry that this chapter is short. I could write it in more detail... but I don't really feel like it.

I'd appreciate any reveiws - even if all you do


	10. The Hunt

I am apologising in advance for this whole long-ish chapter being only one scene. This chapter and the last were going to be just one chapter, but that would have been a bit TOO long.

Disclaimer: I don't anything related to Supernatural. I'm not nearly smart enough to think of something so cool.

* * *

Sam awoke with a throbbing head. His fringe had fallen into his eyes and he couldn't see where he was. He tossed his head – as his hands didn't seem to be able to move to brush his hair away – and squinted through the strands.

He was in a dark room inside a family home. Sam grimaced and remembered. He looked to his right, and saw Courtney, packing clothes into a large duffel bag. She looked up.

"Hey," she said simply, beaming. "How's your head?" Sam sat still out of shock and dizziness relating to his recent blow to the head. He looked down and noticed he was tied up quite elaborately to a cushioned lounge chair.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm packing," she said, folding a yellow shirt and placing into the bag.

"You took Tom and Annie, didn't you? And Dylan. And Nicki," Sam said in a soft but angry voice.

"Well, killed. Though Dylan's still alive. He's a really nice guy." Courtney's voice was light now, and her expression was blank. Sam noted that now she wasn't holding herself gracefully at all and her steely expression made her ordinary features look hard.

"And it was you at the diner."

"Where your brother fucking _shot me_," she said with annoyance, lifting up her t-shit. Sam saw in the dim light a rounded scar just above her hip bone. "Luckily my scars fade quickly - gunshot wounds in beach season call for all kinds of awkward questions. And I'm not nearly as great a liar as you, Sam."

"That's just not true. I'm a terrible liar." Sam's voice was gruff.

"Well, yeah," she conceded. "But you're very sweet. Kind of seems like a shame, to have to… well…" Courtney looked at him with round, honest eyes.

"A shame?"

"A shame. Because I'd really rather you didn't suffer. But a job's a job. And I keep my promises."

"Really seems pointless, trying to be honourable when you're a _liar,_" Sam said, beginning to raise his voice. "Who are you, really?"

"Really? I'm… Courtney," she said with a smile. Sam's expression remained firm.

"You know what I mean."

Courtney sighed. "A better question would have been '_What _are you?'. Or even 'Why are you here'?"

"Don't _fuck _around. Why the hell are you here?"

"Since you asked so _nicely… _I'm here on a job, like you."

"Like me?"

"_Yes. _God, Sam, you're taking a while to get this. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. I am on a job, like you. Well, not _really _like you as my job, sort of _is _you… and your very handsome brother."

"So who sent you?," Sam said much more loudly than he'd intended. "Who sent you to-"

"Find you two? Guess." Courtney smiled, clearly amused at Sam's confusion. He stared at her with an open mouth and finally whispered something incoherent. Courtney nodded slowly. Her face looked serious, but not angered.

"He was _very _adamant that I find you soon, but I'm still inside the deadline. I've been trying to track you down for months. But most places you two go to, _I _can't. So I found a way to bring you to me in a more… convenient place. This is the first town you've been to in quite a while that isn't swarming with hunters," Courtney said in a frustrated tone. "Oh, yes, Sam," she added, seeing Sam's expression. "I know that you and Dean are hunters. I don't usually like hunters myself, which is why I took this job. Hunters just make life very difficult for me." Sam twisted his wrist and felt for the knife he'd stashed in his jeans pocket before leaving the motel. Courtney noticed and shook her head, holding up Sam's knife and gun.

"Like I said. I don't like hunters. Always go everywhere armed to the teeth. But you're different. Tonight you took me out and I really did have a great time. You're probably the first hunter I've met – _ever – _who hasn't tried to hack off my head or force-feed me dead man's blood. It's very refreshing."

Sam's mind seemed to stumble over something. It had always been Sam's way that in times of crisis hid brain would switch to auto-pilot and seek the familiar safety of pure, solid fact. Perhaps _this _had been the reason he'd done so well in school, or managed to find the focus to try and hunt down Jessica and his Mom's killer. His Dad's killer. And, it seemed, Courtney's boss.

"A vampire?" he said in an emotionless voice. He knew his new-found focus wouldn't last long, and soon he'd be all messed up with emotion, screaming and making meaningless threats. "Vampires live in packs. They hide under the radar and hunt anyone they come across. They don't live in small towns and work in diners to assassinate people on the orders of a fucked-up demon."

"And that mean's I can't? Maybe once in a while there _is_ actually a vampire who doesn't want to follow the trend. Someone who has a bit of the rebellious streak you see in yourself." Sam swallowed, but Courtney continued. "I love the hunt, Sam. I love everything about it. But living _that _life means that hunts are few and far between. Your friend offered me freedom. He offered me protection and therefore the freedom to hunt how I want - as long as I complete this one little job. Sam, that was an offer I couldn't refuse." Courtney looked at him with round eyes and looked genuinely sorry for just a moment.

Sam gingerly twisted his body to look for any weaponry Courtney may not have seized. The only thing he could sense was a rather uncomfortable bag of salt in his back pocket. Courtney noticed him squirming.

"That's pointless, Sam. I've got your weapons," she said, resuming her packing.

"You're bad at knots. I could get out of this, you know," Sam said. He was trying to prolong the time before she killed him or knocked him out or did whatever it was she was planning to do.

"I know. But not soon enough. By the time you've finished sitting there channelling MacGyver or whatever it is you're doing it wont matter if you're tied in that chair or not."

"So why do you love the hunt?" he asked flatly, still desperate to stall.

"Why?" she repeated, looking up at Sam. "You hunt, too. You tell me."

"I hunt evil. I hunt to save people. You hunt for nothing but your own sick personal gain," Sam said with a hardened expression.

"You hunt for yourself, too, Sam. You can tell yourself whatever you want but you hunt for _you_," Courtney said, walking over to Sam."When you set out to do something and you do it, you get a thrill. It was the same thrill you got when you aced Calculus." Courtney leaned into Sam's face and lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's the same thrill I get when I feel someone tense up their neck muscles..." Courtney's mouth was now just below Sam's ear, and he could tell that she was baring fangs. He let out an involuntary sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper due to the anger and (as much as he hated to admit it) fear that was beginning to take over his mind. "…like that," Courtney continued, stepping away from Sam. "I can get guys to make that sound anytime I want, Sam. And I don't even have to dress like a whore." Sam chuckled bitterly.

"Why are you telling me any of this? Why don't you just get it over with?" Courtney zipped up her bag and threw it onto her shoulder.

"Because he wants you to know, Sam. And I really _should _get it over with. I've gotta get going. It was nice… spending time with you." Courtney gave Sam a sweet smile and headed for the door.

"Aren't you going to kill me?" Sam said in a deep voice.

"Kill you? You certainly think highly of yourself. What makes you think I'm going to kill you? In fact, Sam, you can feel safe knowing that I'm supposed to keep you alive."

Sam already knew what she was going to say way before she said it. But that didn't stop her parting words rebound through his brain even after she'd slammed the door behind her:

"My orders were to kill Dean."

* * *

I am sorry if this chapter sounds a little "Hunted"-ey. I actually hadn't seen that episode when I wrote most of this story, so it's not my fault. ;-)

And I apologise if any of the vampire stuff throughout the story isn't accurate. I tried to make sure that it was true to the vampires they have on the show, but they actually give very little information on vampires. It shocked me.

Review! Tell me what you think! Please?


	11. Motel Keys

Attention: for some reason there seem to be more hits for chapter ten than chapter nine - which just defys all logic. I added the two chapters on the same day, so it's possible that many people just went straight to the last one without knowing there were TWO new chapters. Make sure you've read or at least skim-read them all, or the story wont make very much sense. ;-)

Onwards with chapter eleven!

Disclaimer: I un-claim all of this. Its not mine. Well, I wrote it but I dont really own it. It is FANFICTION after all...

* * *

Dean was restless. The calming buzz of the beer he'd consumed and the afterglow from his recent social encounter were both beginning to wear off. And his leg was itching like hell. 

Dean's slowly clearing mind meant that he had become aware of something. The fact that Sam had been gone for little over an hour with absolutely no word at all was beginning to bother him. Dean knew Sam was smart and he _would_ call – but not because he wanted to. It had something to do with Sam's intuitive knowledge of Dean's mind - something Dean himself didn't understand. Sam would always call because he knew that Dean would get worried and big-brotherey; even if Dean hadn't yet realised that his palms were sweating and his mind was racing because of that that funny little thing called worry.

But Dean could sense his own concern now, and this told him that something wasn't quite right. He felt like a pathetic teenager waiting for a boy to call as he sat and willed his phone to ring. Upon discovering that he - unlike Sam - had no remarkable mental abilities, Dean gave up and hopped his way to the bathroom. Still a little bit light-headed, Dean promptly wobbled and fell against the coffee table.

Dean considered the situation. There were several possible scenarios that arose in his mind that explained why Sam hadn't called. Sam could have found an important lead and was so engrossed in the case that he hadn't thought to call Dean. Sam could be very, very hurt. The car could have broken down, and Sam's cell might not be working. Courtney might have rang Sam as an obscurely disguised booty-call and she and Sam could currently be going at it on the kitchen floor (something Dean did not want to mull over).

"Shit," Dean exclaimed to no-one in particular. He told himself his frustration was due to the fact he was finding it difficult to use the bathroom and control his balance at the same time, but inwardly he knew his worry over Sam was beginning to take its toll. He had tried to do something – anything – to take his mind off Sam. He'd messed around with the settings on his cell phone, so now when someone rang it played the gratifying riff from _Thunderstruck. _He'd started to watch _Jurassic Park, _but somehow he couldn't focus enough to enjoy it. He'd sharpened some of his knives and set all his laundry aside, ready for washing the next day.

Dean let out a sigh of relief when he heard a car pull up at the motel just as he hopped his way from the bathroom. But the feeling didn't last long – Sam would've called out to Dean as he walked to the motel door, and the silhouette through the window wasn't nearly close to Sam's imposing 6'4" frame. And when the person spoke in a voice more nervous than he felt, Dean was sure it wasn't Sam.

"Dean? Sam?"

* * *

Sam sucked in a breath. It was always times like this that he had to actually remind himself to breathe. He could hear Courtney's car drive away from the house and tried not to focus on the fact that she was headed for Dean. 

Dean who was alone. Dean who was injured and intoxicated. Dean who had no idea of the kind of danger he was in.

_If only I'd stalled her for longer… _Sam's thoughts were all useless "if only"s and painful images of Dean's looming death. Sam pushed them out of his mind and tried to focus on his immediate surroundings. He told himself he had to get out of the almost mockingly comfortable room and to Dean's side as fast as he could before Courtney… before _Dean_...

Sam inhaled again. He had to find a way out of that chair and out of that room. He wriggled his body, testing his bonds. Courtney _was _very bad at knots, but Sam discovered this wasn't a good thing. The messy tangle of ropes didn't seem to have a beginning or an end and Sam couldn't find a way to loosen the unstructured knots. Besides, he thought glumly, he couldn't free his hands from his side to loosen the ropes anyway.

He thought back to when he left the motel and tried to remember what weaponry he has crammed into his various pockets before leaving. The rock salt in his back pocket was completely inaccessible and clearly useless. Courtney had taken his pistol and his favourite hunter's knife.

Sam couldn't remember if he had his pocket knife in his jeans pocket or not and shifted his body, feeling for its shape. He discovered with a frustrated expletive that he'd either forgotten his knife or had it taken from him.

Sam remembered the last thing he'd taken from the motel before leaving for _Salé _earlier that night. He'd seized the spare room key and tucked it into his shoe. It was Dean's tendency of losing unimportant items like keys which had made Sam habitually keep the spare key in a very safe location.

Sam peered down at his feet. He knew he could use the key to saw through the ropes around his hands which would hopefully free his arms enough to untie the rest of him. While the key wasn't particularly sharp, Sam had had practice in his younger years of cutting through rope with much blunter objects. Not for the first time, Sam was very grateful for his abnormal upbringing.

He tried to use his left foot to wrestle the shoe off his right, but the ropes strained and his feet didn't have enough room to move. Sam leaned back in the chair and put all his energy in loosening the ropes around his feet as the rest of the ropes tightened around his waist and neck, effectively cutting off access to his lungs. He managed to hook one foot around the other and, with a tentative manoeuvre of his feet, push of his right shoe. He heard the satisfying clink of the key hitting the hardwood floor and let out a breath.

Sam leaned to the side of the chair in an attempt to throw of his balance and was only slightly aware of how ridiculous he must look. Experience had taught him that untying himself was generally much easier when he was resting at least partially on the ground. The chair didn't tip.

He tried again, with more energy, and soon he was violently rocking himself side to side and the chair began to lurch. Eventually it rocked and fell with a crash, and the chair which was now resting on its side. He'd knocked over the coffee table during the motion and the floor was now littered with cardboard drink coasters and a photo frame had fallen and hit him in the arm. The key was less than a foot from his knee.

Sam wriggled in his ropes, and the upholstered chair shook and slowly nudged across the floor inch by inch. He heard a click and the foot rest of the chair swung out, pushing his extravagantly tied up feet along with it. "Shit," Sam muttered as he saw his foot make contact with the key which slid across the room and under the sofa.

* * *

"Courtney?" Dean asked, leaning on the bathroom doorframe. "Sam's not with you?" 

"No. He said he'd meet me more than an hour ago and I haven't seen him. He's not answering his cell." Courtney's voice was muffled, but Dean could sense the concern in her hurried words.

"He left. He left to meet you right after you called," Dean stammered out. He felt as though he'd been sucker-punched in the stomach. He wobbled awkwardly into his wheelchair and approached the door.

"Did you check Dylan's? He might have gone inside without you."

"He wasn't there. The place was empty."

"Well, I should go look for him…" Dean said, trying to open the door. It was locked. "Wait a minute, I'll let you in." He scanned the apartment for the key. The room started to spin a little bit and go blurry – but not in a pleasant alcohol-induced way.

"Shit. Look, are you _sure _he wasn't there?" Dean shouted as he rifled through his bedside drawer for the key which he was sure he had last. Sam always took the spare key, but Dean definitely had the other one. He found the key underneath a pile of take-out menus and moved towards the motel door. "He can't just not be there! You didn't hear him? Did you check _everywhere _he could be?" Dean's voice had risen much more than he'd meant it to and he took several deep breaths to calm down.

"Yes, Dean, I did. I went in there," Courtney said, her voice not sounding less anxious and more frustrated. "There was no-one there, it was like Dylan just left. I didn't see anyone and the lights were still on and everything was silent… except that Dylan's television was still on playing _Jurassic Park._"

Dean froze, key poised in the lock. He turned and looked at the copy of _Jurassic Park _resting on the coffee table.

"Oh, uh, wrong key."

* * *

Please reveiw - I'll love you forever! The story hasn't got long to go now and you wont get many more opportunities to tell me how much you hated it! ;-) 


	12. Useless Cursing

Ok, sorry it took a while. I have to get into the routine of writing and also having a life. And who's seen "Born Under a Bad Sign"? I watched it a few hours ago and GASP! what a great episode...

Disclaimer: I dont own Supernatural. Would be so damn cool if I did though.

* * *

Sam glared at the glinting key across the room. In spite of the fact he'd always been just a little bit terrified of his own psychic abilities, Sam was now trying to use his brainpower to bring the key over to him. Eventually he was convinced his psychic powers weren't going to show any time soon. 

"Fuck!" he exclaimed. Sam decided if there ever was a time for useless cursing, then this was it. He wriggled some more in his chair, hoping the recent crash to the floor had somehow magically loosened the ropes. It had only been twenty minutes or so since Courtney had left, he reasoned, so it was likely that Dean was still alive.

Not _still _alive. _Still _alive sounds like he's going to die… which isn't going to happen.

Sam focused on this thought as he tried to weave his foot out from the ropes. He rolled over a little and winced as glass from the fallen photo frame cut into his hand. Then he had the sudden urge to slap himself on the forehead.

Sam grasped the glass with his very slightly bloody hand and used it to hack through his ropes, freeing his hand. He cut through the bonds over his chest and used his free hands to untie those around his neck and feet. He stood up and felt an ache shoot through his foot to his thigh. He ignored it and rushed through the front door of Dylan's house, out to the street.

Sam looked along the street and shook his head.

"No…" he said softly to no-one in particular. The Impala – which he distinctly remembered parking in front of Dylan's house – was gone. He felt for the car keys in his back pocket but they were gone, too.

"Bitch!"

* * *

"Sorry, wrong key…" Dean said, withdrawing the key from the lock. "I'll just find the right one... It has to be here somewhere." Dean wheeled to his bedside table and took out his favourite pistol. "So why'd you call Sam to help?" Dean asked as he searched the room for his bottle of holy water. 

"Oh, because he seems to know a lot about the disappearances," Courtney said, still sounding faintly distressed. "And, you know, he has a gun." Dean thought about his situation as he stared at the door.

Something was definitely wrong. Sam could be hurt or worse, and Courtney was lying about what she saw. As far as Dean concerned, Courtney was keeping him from finding Sam and this meant Dean had to find a way to make her talk.

He considered the possibility that Courtney could be the one behind the killings and the disappearances. Dean hoped she wasn't as that undoubtedly meant all his guns were useless. They'd seemed pretty useless the night before in the diner. Despite this, Dean pocketed his pistol and stashed two more guns under his chair.

"Yeah, he does…" Dean answered distractedly. "Sorry, I bet the key's in here _somewhere… _So you haven't spoken to him at all since then?" Dean had found his rifle but it wasn't loaded. He rifled through the various drawers of the room looking for rock salt.

"No I said I haven't… you haven't found the key yet?" came Courtney's soft voice through the door. Dean mumbled an apology as he loaded the rifle with salt. He swung around to to find Courtney standing inside the room, the door open.

"'Cause I don't think you're looking hard enough," she said with a smile.

* * *

Sam stood helplessly on the street for just a few moments and took a deep breath. He looked around for a car he could borrow – just for one night – to get him to Dean as quick as possible. 

He spied Dylan's shiny Monte Carlo and approached it before remembering he'd seen Dylan's keys in the house earlier. Sam went back into the kitchen and found the keys hidden in the shadows on the table. He frowned at the enamel AC/DC logo glaring at him from the bottle opener and hurried out to the car.

Sam had just opened the door and sat down in the drivers seat when he felt something stir behind him. He turned to see an extremely groggy Dylan curled up in the back seat partially hidden underneath a grey blanket. Sam shook him.

"Dude… dude can I borrow your car?" Sam asked lamely as Dylan blinked his eyes a few times.

"What? Man, where's your brother?" Dylan said, not seeming to notice where he was. "I wanted to lend him this new CD I got. It's Metallica – _live_ – playing all these covers of-"

"Dylan, I need this car to help Dean. It's an emergency. I think Courtney might-"

"Courtney? Shit, man, Courtney hit me! In the head, like twice. And now I'm here…" Dylan looked around at his car. "Yeah, you can borrow her. If it's an emergency."

"It is."

Minutes later, Sam was speeding through the streets of Dale Woods towards the motel. The silence of everything was starting to bother him, as it was in silence that he got carried away with his thoughts. Something he did not want to do at that moment. He looked down at Dylan's CD player and pressed the resume button. Sam listened numbly for several seconds before he realised he knew the song.

"_We can be like they are, come on baby, don't fear the reaper…" _

"Shit," he said, blindly bashing at the CD controls. The song stopped and Sam was relieved when a different song began to play.

The motel loomed in front of Sam and he sped towards their room. The CD player was still booming when he noticed the motel room door open. Sam came to a screeching halt in front of the door to the subtly of _"Welcome To The Jungle" _and ran into the room as fast as he could.

"Woah," Dean said, sitting by the door. "Dude - kudos on the entrance."

* * *

(Note: This part takes place kind of halfway through the previous part about Sam. So Sam is not there yet and it just continues on from the last Dean segment when Courtney came in the room. Yeah, I know its messed up.)

Dean's face hardened at Courtney standing by the door.

"Where's Sam? I _know _you know where he is," Dean said, his voice steady and deep.

"He's at Dylan's place," Courtney replied matter-of-factly.

"Why should I believe you?" Dean asked with menacing glare. He pulled his pistol out of his pocket and aimed it at Courtney. Courtney looked at Dean in a way that clearly said 'well _that's _not going to help you'.

"_What have you done with Sam?_" Dean was shouting now and he was resisting the urge to leap out of his chair and beat Courtney to a bloody pulp. Thankfully he had decided not to, because not only was punching her not likely to be effective but it was very likely that Dean would just fall over before he reached her.

"I haven't done anything to Sam. He's fine, Dean. Trust me," she said, her eyes looking honest. Dean was reminded eerily of Sam's puppy-dog-eyed face but soon pushed the thought out of his mind. Courtney took a step towards Dean.

"Well, call me crazy but I _don't _trust you," Dean said trying to keep his voice soft and low. He wheeled backwards as Courtney advanced on him. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here all because of you Dean. And before that goes to your head realise that I'm here to do a job."

"That makes me feel so much better."

Courtney had backed Dean into the doorway of the bathroom and leant in towards him.

"You know, if things were different I'd…" Courtney trailed off. "You're a great guy Dean. A great brother. I was telling Sam before that it really is a _shame…_"

"You'd better stop screwing around or I _swear_-"

"You'll what?" Courtney was now standing at the bathroom door and Dean has his chair backed up against the edge of the bath. "What'll you do, Dean?"

Dean pulled out an almost insanely large knife from under his wheelchair and threw it the short distance towards Courtney. It sliced through her chest and pinned her to the bathroom door with a satisfying thud.

"That."

* * *

WOOO! End of chapter! Please I am worried the timing confused people so please please PLEASE send me a message if it did and I'll change it pronto! 


	13. The Job

NOT the last chapter.

Disclaimer: I dont own it.

* * *

Courtney wriggled against the door as blood soaked through her shirt.

"Getting rusty, Dean. Should've known that wouldn't kill me," she said, trying to grip the knife.

"I knew that wouldn't kill you. But, in case you haven't noticed, the blood loss is making you weak and you're trapped. So I easily _can _kill you," Dean said with a smirk. Courtney's eyes widened a little and she clawed at the knife in her chest, unable to pull it free. "You don't grow up with a hunter without learning that vampires _need _blood. And yes, you'll heal, but I have more knives." Dean pulled an almost obscenely shiny knife out of its holster and turned it around in his fingers. "This baby'll make a Pez dispenser out of you without even dulling the blade. So I'll ask you again… what've you done with Sam?"

Courtney sighed gave up trying to free herself. "How'd you know I wouldn't die?" she asked, obviously avoiding the question.

"Because I'm a great shot and I _did _shoot you in that diner. And you don't really seem any the worse for wear. And the blood and the fact you _obviously _aren't possessed… my guess is vampire."

"Well, you're… smug," she said after a pause.

"Where is he?"

Courtney sighed.

"At Dylan's house. Tied to a chair." Dean lowered the knife a little.

"Alive?"

Courtney tipped her head the slightest and Dean gave a sigh of relief.

"But, is he…" Dean said in a small voice, trailing off.

"He's _fine._ He's the same guy you've known and loved your whole life." Dean looked at Courtney's face – pale and determined and still a little bit frightened.

"Why are you here?" Dean asked, deciding that now was not the time for gratuitous violence but more the time for answers.

"I told you, I'm… on… a… job," Courtney said, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"But you're a vampire. What kind of job could you be interested in?" Dean sat back in his chair, still brandishing the knife.

"One with great rewards. But I gotta say it hasn't been easy. You guys are protected much better than you know." Dean considered the information.

"Really?"

"Aha. Your daddy made a lot of friends in his time. Great for you, not so great for me," Courtney said, nodding her head slowly.

"So the job's just… me?"

"For now. That's all he's asked so far."

"Who's 'he'?" Dean asked in a soft voice.

"I think you know," Courtney replied in a whisper.

"And you just found us here on his orders?"

"Well, I brought you here. Dale Woods is a small town with no weird deaths and almost no history. Which means no hunters. And it's a place Sarah Blake has been known to visit."

"Sarah was here?"

"Aha. Visited last month. And told her best friend all about the cute demon hunters she met last year. Who'd have known that _that _connection would come in handy?" Courtney said with a smile.

"So you offed some guy and moved into his house just to get us here?"

"Well, yeah. But if it makes _you _feel any better, the killings were for a reason." Courtney's voice now sounded light.

"It doesn't," Dean said, glaring.

"That's hypocritical, Dean. You'd kill anything or anyone for Sam." Dean's mouth twitched. "Honestly, Dean," Courtney continued. "When it all comes down to it, loyalty means jack. We're all going to die. Well, _I _already have, really - but you get my point. And hunting a demon that's after your brother _will _get you killed. Even if it's not right now. In the end you've got to follow what _you _want."

"Well excuse me if I'm not quite that cynical yet," Dean said, sounding disgusted. "And this _is _what I want."

"And what's _this _exactly? Babysitting your little brother while he seeks revenge on a whacked-out demon?" Dean glared at her and left the room to rifle through his bags.

"Because you know, Dean," Courtney called through the room. "It's not about you. As much as you like to think that it _is_. Because it's about Sam."

Dean returned to the bathroom with another, slightly worn-looking, knife. Courtney's eyebrows knitted and concern flashed over her face for just a moment.

"Killing me won't finish it," she said seriously. Dean stood up, balancing on his good leg, and looked into her eyes for a second.

"No, but it'll make me feel better," he said and plunged a second knife lower down into her chest. Courtney's eyes widened and Dean smirked. "Come on, you've died once. This wont be too different."

"It wont change anything." Her voice was quiet and strained. "No matter if you or Sam kills me it's still about him. And I think you know that. The demon's not interested in _you._"

"Then why did he send _you _to kill _me, _and not Sam?" Dean asked with a hard look and a raised voice. Courtney didn't respond. "Because that yellow-eyed bastard knows I am the biggest thing stopping him from getting to Sam." Dean raised the shiniest knife and lent in close to her, balancing on one leg. "And I'm not going down that easy."

Dean looked up from Courtney and listened. He could hear a faint beat and the roar of an engine approaching. He dropped the knife and wheeled to the motel room door.

Outside, Dean saw Sam pull up in a garishly red Chevrolet with a look on his face that made Dean's stomach drop. Sam ran into the room.

"Woah. Dude, Kudos on the entrance," Dean said in awe. Sam stared at him with equal parts relief and confusion.

"Dean I thought you… I thought she'd-" Sam began, only slightly hysterical.

"'_Guns n' Roses' _and the car… Shit man, I couldn't have done it better myself," Dean said, staring at the purring Monte Carlo.

"Has Courtney-"

"Yeah, man. She's in the bathroom." Dean watched Sam tentatively enter the bathroom and look around. Sam did a double-take when he saw the bathroom door.

"Shit, Dean. She's… bleeding all over the place. Oh, God I really thought you were-"

"Dead? 'Fraid not," Dean said, wheeling towards the bathroom. "I've told you, Sammy. No girl can kick my ass."

Sam chuckled bitterly. "So what do we do now?"

"Decapitate the vampire, torch the place and drive the hell away," Dean said with a smile. "And quick, this town is starting to freak me out."

* * *

YAY! End of chapter! But not end of story - stay tuned for next installment. Soon-ish.

I appreciate ANY feedback at all. SO get reveiwin'! Please? If theres anything that I should change coz it didnt make sense please tell me.


	14. Scented Candle

Last chapter. Yes it's over.

I'll probably have a new story in the next few weeks. Joy:-D

Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural.

* * *

"Do vampires have DNA?" Sam asked, peering down at his blood-soaked belongings. Dean chuckled as he zipped up his backpack. "What?"

"Only you, Sam."

"Well if anyone looks for Courtney and finds her blood all over our stuff-"

"They wont."

"Or her body – and head – in the woods-"

"They wont. They'll think it's the same serial killer who took Annie and Tom and Nicki. And we couldn't have killed them, as we were in a different state half the time. Sam, the way you're carrying on you'd think you've never killed anything before," Dean said, wheeling out to the Impala with his backpack on his lap.

Sam had found the Impala just behind the motel. While Dean had claimed it would never feel the same after "that bitch" had sat in the driver's seat, Sam considered Dean's prized possession relatively unscathed. He'd even managed to protect the upholstery as he drove Courtney's severed body to the woods. Unfortunately he couldn't say the same for the motel room.

Dean had admitted that he'd got a little carried away with the decapitation. He explained that his injury had made him over-eager for a hunt and violently slashing a vampire at least four more times than was necessary was a way to release all the pent-up energy. That and he was still a little bit drunk.

"So that's why you _accidentally _incinerated the carpet?" Sam asked with a smirk.

"No, smart-ass. If we leave the motel room covered in blood then people tend to ask questions. And somehow the cut-myself-shaving excuse just didn't fly."

"Come on Dean, you could have come up with a better lie. You're great at that." Sam opened the trunk and Dean threw his backpack on top of a spare sack of rock salt.

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," Dean said, smiling triumphantly. "Besides, you're not so bad at lying yourself." Dean tossed his head back and adopted an exaggerated puppy-dog expression. "'…And the next thing I know I'd knocked over my sandalwood-scented candle and the carpet was on _fire_-'"

"I did _not _say it was scented!"

"Sammy… you charming the owner – who is, by all logic, too old to still be alive – into letting you off the hook for setting fire to her favourite curtains was _hilarious_." Sam scowled but Dean just laughed, which caused Sam to smile too.

"Dean, you're not going to say it, are you?"

"Say what?"

"That the demon's trying to kill you."

"Well I'm not going to _now_. Obviously you know," Dean said, avoiding Sam's gaze and keeping his voice light.

"Dean, don't." Dean looked up at Sam whose face was blank aside from the slightly down-turned edges of his mouth.

"Well what do you _want _me to say? Do you want me to just go out and kill the son of a bitch because I've discovered he wants me dead? I knew that a while ago, Sam."

"No, I just thought maybe you'd be more…"

"Angry? Vengeful? Sam, this incident will be just another reason to smile after I kill the bastard," Dean said, his expression firm.

"Dean, I don't want you getting killed because of _me_. Maybe it would be better if I-"

"Don't _even _say it. I'm hunting this thing, Sam. I've always known that I could get killed - it's an occupational hazard. And honestly I couldn't think of anything better to die for," Dean said frankly. Sam nodded distantly.

"Well," Sam said after a long silence. "We'd better get going soon." Dean slid into the front passenger seat with a reasonable amount of difficulty. Sam wrestled with the wheelchair and finally managed to cram it into the backseat as Dean looked on in horror at the new wheel-scuffs on the upholstery. Sam looked at Dean guiltily.

"Sorry…"

To Sam's surprise, Dean just smiled.

"It's fine Sam. It'll come out." Sam stared at him. "Really," Dean continued, after seeing Sam's expression. "Don't get so… stressed - and stop being so damn serious all the time. Have more fun. You need it," Dean said matter-of-factly. Sam chuckled.

"Yeah. I'll be back in a minute. I've just gotta do something," Sam said, climbing out of the backseat and walking behind the car. Dean switched on the cassette player and thoroughly enjoyed the first few bars of _'Hot Blooded'_. He spied Sam on his cell phone in the rear-view mirror and turned down the volume.

"Hello?" came Sam's faint voice. "It's Sam. Yeah, Winchester. How are you, Sarah?"

Dean smiled to himself and turned up the music.

* * *

It's over. I am breathing a very long sigh of releif.

Thank you for reading. It makes me feel nice. Please express your joy/disgust in a quick reveiw.

I will be forever thankful.


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